


To Have and to Hoard

by NeonPistachio



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Not Infinity War/Endgame Compliant, Sorta Mythological creatures? Definitely dragons, Team Cap neutral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28594230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonPistachio/pseuds/NeonPistachio
Summary: Practically everybody knows that Bucky Barnes, part-dragon sidekick of Captain America, hoarded whatever shiny tech he could get back in the day. It’s common knowledge among the Avengers that Hydra didn’t let him hoard anything, and Tony can’t help but want to make up for seventy years of depravation.Damn his overwhelming need to please those he cares about.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 247





	To Have and to Hoard

Tony pushes up his safety goggles with a tired sigh, running a hand across his aching eyes. He’s nearly there, nearly finished, but he’s not quite there yet. He could push on – has done so in the past, coffee and stubbornness winning the battle against exhaustion – but this isn’t a project for him. This is a project for Bucky, a gift, and it has to be perfect if he wants it to be good enough for the dragon’s hoard. 

Practically everybody knows that Bucky Barnes, part-dragon sidekick of Captain America, hoarded whatever shiny tech he could get back in the day. It’s common knowledge among the Avengers that Hydra didn’t let him hoard anything, and Tony can’t help but want to make up for seventy years of depravation. 

Damn his overwhelming need to please those he cares about. 

He can’t do that, however, with sub-standard tech, and so he needs a nap before he can finish and then start testing it. He can crash here; the couch in his workshop is the best place for sleeping, in Tony’s opinion, because it has - 

It doesn’t have. The really excellent super snuggly blanket is missing from the back of the couch. Tony blinks, then blinks again. The blanket is missing. His blanket is missing. Who’s taken his blanket?

‘DUM-Y -’ he begins, then gives up when the bot looks up with an enquiring beep. There’s no way that rolling disaster could successfully steal his blanket without getting it hopelessly tangled around himself and needing Tony to help. U and Butterfingers are too well behaved to steal Tony’s special blanket, so there’s only one person left to ask.

‘FRI-baby, darling, light of my life, where’s my blanket?’

‘Blanket, boss?’ If AI’s could blink innocently, FRIDAY would be batting her lashes like nobody’s business. ‘Could you be more specific?’

‘My blanket, FRI, the one from my couch.’ Tony tries to stay patient, but really, all he wants is his blanket and a nap. That’s his best blanket – he never sleeps so well as when he’s wrapped in it, even though Rhodey’s totally wrong when he calls it a security blanket. 

‘Do you mean the piece of unidentifiable biological waste you like to sleep under?’ FRIDAY asks, and wow, such harsh words in such a saccharine tone. Sure, the blanket may not be the cleanest – there’s a few grease and oil stains on it, one or two burned holes, a couple of coffee spills, the spot where Rhodey dropped pizza on it, and maybe a couple of bloodstains from late night caffeine fuelled inventing binges that turned exciting – but it’s not that bad. And it’s snuggly. He’s had it ever since he stole it off a one night stand in MIT. That blanket has a lot of fond memories attached. 

‘That blanket, yes.’

‘Sorry, boss, can’t seem to locate it,’ FRIDAY tells him, and Tony is instantly suspicious. FRIDAY doesn’t sound worried, nor like she’s conspiring with someone or secretly trying to have his blanket killed with fire. Someone she trusts must have taken it – a short list, really, when crossed with people who also have access to his workshop. But why would anyone on that list want his snuggly, ratty blanket?

A yawn breaks through, diverting his attention and he shakes his head tiredly. Seriously, all he wants right now is a nap. Mysterious blanket thieves can wait til later – he’ll cross-examine FRIDAY when he’s awake enough to (maybe) not let her give him the run around, and until then the unblanketed couch will have to do. 

He flops down, wriggles to get comfortable, sits up again to dig out a poorly positioned socket wrench, flops down again and tries to fall asleep. 

It’s not as easy without the comfortable weight of his blanket. 

*

‘Oh maaaan,’ Peter grumbles, stopping dead in the middle of the common area. ‘Not again!’

‘Urgh,’ Harley grunts around his fistful of popcorn, shaking his head in annoyance.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tony asks, concern spiking as he changes direction to follow them into the room. He doesn’t like people upsetting his interns, unintentionally or not, and some of the compound residents -

He takes a deep breath and steps up to Peter and Harley, telling himself not to jump to conclusions. It could be nothing; certainly he can’t see anything immediately wrong, although - 

‘Damn it,’ he sighs, staring at the naked furniture waiting for them yet again. 

‘What’s wrong?’ And here’s the fourth member of their regularly scheduled Sci-fi film night, hurrying into the room, concern replacing his usual resting murder face. Though the way he’s gripping what Tony suspects is a knife hidden under his sweatshirt, the murder part may not be far off. 

‘Someone’s taken all the comfy cushions again,’ Harley complains, taking his bowl of popcorn and slumping down onto a denuded armchair. ‘What is this, like the fourth time?’

‘Third,’ Tony corrects, sighing. ‘God knows who needs that many cushions.’

Beside him, Bucky hasn’t relaxed yet, and Tony turns to smile at him, nudging his arm gently as he does. ‘Chill, ice-dragon,’ he teases. ‘It’s just cushions. No need to go all ‘protect the hoard’.’

‘Sure,’ Bucky nods, stance not relaxing. ‘Just cushions.’ He sweeps his gaze across the room. ‘But you don’t know who took them?’

‘Right,’ Tony agrees, taking his usual spot on the not-usually-this-bare couch and patting the seat next to him. ‘FRIDAY won’t tell me, and none of the bodies have ever been found.’ He wiggles, trying to get comfortable without the amazingly soft and squishy cushions that he already misses greatly. ‘I’ll order more before next film night,’ he promises.

Weirdly, Bucky looks guilty as he finally takes his seat next to Tony. ‘You shouldn’t have to do that,’ he protests. ‘I’m sure they’ll turn up.’

‘Eh,’ Tony shrugs, tugging on Bucky’s arm to position him as he wants in the absence of the wonderful cushions. Bucky lets him, still a little tense, and Tony senses that more assertive platonic snuggling may be required tonight. He’s willing to make that sacrifice, cuddle the attractive super-soldier for the good of the team. Or the film night. Whatever. Either way, cuddling is required. 

He drags his mind back from that rabbit hole and returns it firmly to the topic at hand. ‘It’s just cushions,’ he continues. ‘It’s not that big a deal. If someone likes them that much I guess they can have them. It would be nice if they could leave some for the rest of us, though.’

Finally Bucky relaxes against him, allowing Tony to lean into his side more heavily. ‘Maybe the next lot will stay,’ he suggests, and Tony nods, reaching for Bucky’s bowl of popcorn and pouting when Bucky moves it out of reach. ‘No fair!’

‘I put chilli oil on it,’ Bucky reminds him fondly – or in a way that Tony hopes is fond. ‘Too hot for you.’

‘Stupid dragon taste buds,’ Tony grumbles, reluctantly disentangling himself from Bucky and returning to his previously aborted mission to make his own bowl of popcorn. ‘Why couldn’t you have wings or something useful?’

‘At least I run warm,’ Bucky returns, and Tony sticks his head out of the kitchen to point at him in agreement. 

‘True. In that case I’ll forgive you for your weird taste in popcorn.’

‘Sure, doll,’ Bucky drawls, sprawling back on the couch, properly relaxed now, and Tony ducks back into the kitchen before he can give himself away. It’s not fair that Bucky looks so hot doing basically nothing, not fair that he can make Tony want to snuggle him and date him and do filthy sexy things with him with so little effort. 

But that’s not on the cards. It’s taken a long time to get to where they are now; avoidance and tight nods and guilt in the early days, screaming and throwing things and more guilt after that, then shared late night post-nightmare silence, followed by late night post-nightmare distracting each other and the beginnings of forgiveness, slowly moving into tentative friendship and continuing all the way up to this point, where Tony can make popcorn and bask in the fact that he can tease and prod Bucky into relaxing without much trouble. Tony’s not going to jeopardise that with his one-sided feelings.

He ignores the little part of him that wants to bask in the way Bucky calls him ‘doll’. _Only one lot of basking at a time,_ he reminds himself, and in any case, it doesn’t mean anything. They both use pet names. It’s their thing.

Tony really wishes his part-satyr nature didn’t make him see flirting where flirting is not. 

‘So what are we watching today?’ he asks Harley and Peter as he returns, tasty tasty non-chilli caramel popcorn in hand, taking a seat beside Bucky again and not at all basking in the way Bucky’s arm curls automatically round his shoulders. This also doesn’t mean anything. 

‘Peter wants _Firefly_ again,’ Harley complains from where the two of them are conferring with FRIDAY as they scroll through the options. ‘I want _Battlestar Galactica_.’

‘Nothing wrong with _Firefly_ ,’ Tony points out. ‘But we did watch it last week. You know what happens if you can’t decide.’

Both teenagers look at each other and shudder dramatically, then Peter sighs. ‘ _Battlestar Galactica_ then.’

‘Fine,’ Tony doesn’t pout, waving for FRIDAY to queue it up. ‘But one day you will have to watch it.’

‘Sorry doll, I’m with them,’ Bucky whispers as the lights dim. ‘Anythin’ called _The Green Slime_ ain’t gonna be a masterpiece.’

‘That’s not the point,’ Tony whispers back. ‘It’s so bad it’s good.’

‘Whatever ya say, doll,’ Bucky whispers back, settling his arm more firmly around Tony, and Tony lets go of the argument in order to more fully appreciate having a warm super-solider cuddling him. 

Purely platonically, of course. 

*

Tony and Bucky are making post-sparring sandwiches when Hope breezes into the kitchen, giving them both distracted smiles. ‘Hey, haven’t seen you in a while,’ Tony greets, not having managed to speak to her earlier as she sparred with Natasha. ‘Good match today.’ 

‘Thanks,’ she returns, smiling less distractedly at them both. ‘I’d love to chat but I’ve got a meeting back in the city so I’ve got to run, sorry. Just need to find my scarf.’ 

‘Haven’t seen it,’ Tony tells her, looking enquiringly at Bucky, who shrugs. ‘Have you asked FRIDAY?’

‘She couldn’t help,’ Hope says, glancing at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go, anyway. I’m sure it’ll turn up. It’s a yellow and black cashmere one, if you happen to find it.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ Tony promises, and Hope gives them both a parting wave as she strides out. ‘Weird,’ he comments to Bucky. ‘That’s not the first thing that’s gone missing.’ He’s still pissed that his blanket hasn’t shown up. And baffled by the missing cushions, though so far all of the latest delivery has stayed where it’s supposed to be.

‘Huh,’ Bucky grunts, stuffing a sandwich in his mouth, and Tony rolls his eyes, secretly sort of impressed. He wishes he could do that with cheeseburgers. 

Also, seriously, how does Bucky manage to make even that look sexy? Under no natural law should that be sexy. Sometimes Tony really hates his distant satyr ancestor. 

‘Yeah, FRI won’t tell me anything,’ he carries on, ignoring the way Bucky is now licking his fingers. ‘But I have my suspicions.’

‘Really?’ Bucky freezes with one finger left in his mouth, wide-eyed, and Tony has to go and stick his head in the fridge so as not to spontaneously combust. 

‘Yup,’ he tells the various leftovers sitting on the shelves. ‘I know who’s stealing all the soft things.’

‘You do?’ Bucky sounds oddly strangled, but Tony can’t risk taking his head out of the fridge yet to check on him. 

‘It’s Rhodey,’ he tells the condiments in the door of the fridge. ‘My Rhodey-bird is all grown up and ready to build a nest for Carol.’ He finally feels safe enough to close the fridge, and finds Bucky staring at him in confusion. 

‘You think Rhodes is buildin’ a nest for Danvers?’

‘They are both full-bird Colonels,’ Tony tells him seriously. ‘I think he’s using the oak tree near the west wing.’

‘Did you get a concussion an’ I didn’t notice?’ Bucky asks, frowning, and Tony gasps in offence. 

‘Rude. I’m trying to impart this carefully gathered and highly sensitive information to you, and you’re mocking me. I’m hurt, snapdragon, truly hurt.’

‘Pretty sure you’ll survive,’ Bucky tells him, grinning, then ‘You gonna finish that sandwich?’

‘Yes,’ Tony tells him emphatically, grabbing the half left on his plate. ‘My food.’ Bucky gives him sad eyes, but Tony holds firm and takes a large bite out of his sandwich and eventually Bucky gives up and goes to start the coffee pot. ‘Thanks,’ Tony offers when Bucky sets a mug down beside him. ‘Just what I wanted. It’s like you read my mind.’

‘Not hard,’ Bucky points out. ‘You always want coffee.’

‘True,’ Tony agrees, and they stand in companionable silence as Tony finishes the last of his sandwich. On the table, Bucky’s phone chirrups, a reminder for his therapy appointment, and he goes to put his empty mug in the sink. ‘Gotta go,’ he tells Tony, and Tony quickly finishes the last of his coffee. 

‘Drop by the workshop after,’ he suggests. ‘Finished a thing the other day, thought you might like it for your hoard.’

‘That’s… that’s real good of you, doll,’ Bucky tells him, smiling, but there’s something slightly off about his grin – an awkwardness to the edges that has Tony’s stomach clenching. 

‘You don’t have to,’ he rushes out. ‘Just thought, you know, hey, shiny thing, maybe Bucky – but don’t worry, it’s fine, it’s probably not what you’d like anyway, sorry, just – have a good session,’ he finishes, and tries to make a dash for it. Before he can reach the door though, arms wrap round him, one flesh and one metal, pulling him back against a ridiculously firm chest.

‘Hey sweetheart,’ Bucky says into his ear, voice soothing and arms gentle. ‘Hey, don’t run away. I’m sorry, I’d love to see what you made me. You make such good things, doll.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Tony says again, but he relaxes back into Bucky’s hold. ‘Don’t do anything you don’t want to, right?’

‘I do want to,’ Bucky insists. ‘’M sorry, I was just – therapy, you know?’

‘I know,’ Tony agrees, pulling away and turning to look at Bucky. ‘You know I know. Sorry for over reacting.’

‘It’s fine, doll,’ Bucky assures him. ‘And you know I know you know. We’ve all got our things, right?’

‘We’ve all got our things,’ Tony agrees, and lets Bucky pull him in for another comforting hug before pulling back once more to push lightly at Bucky’s chest. ‘Now go.’

‘I’m going,’ Bucky promises. ‘I’ll be in the workshop right after, though. Can’t wait to see what you’ve made me.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ Tony tells him, and watches Bucky leave, stomach still a little tight. What was that look about? Was it just the thought of the coming therapy session, or was it something more?

Bucky comes down to the workshop later and enthuses over Tony’s gift, but still Tony can’t shake the worry that something’s wrong.

*

‘Boss, Sergeant Barnes is requesting entry to the workshop,’ FRIDAY breaks through the music to say. 

Tony blinks, emerging slowly from his coding haze. ‘Ok? Why doesn’t he just – oh damn, am I on blackout mode?’

‘No boss,’ FRIDAY assures him, ‘but Sergeant Barnes didn’t want to disturb you if you were busy.’

This information causes Tony to shut down his workstation and push away from the desk. Normally Bucky would just come straight in and hang out with the bots until Tony realises he’s there. He’s only hesitant when he’s having a bad day. ‘Music off, FRI, and tell Bucky he can come in,’ he says as he grabs a tablet and crosses the workshop to the couch. When Bucky shuffles in, buried in an oversized fleecy sweatshirt, jogging bottoms and thick socks, Tony already has the lights dimmed in the rest of the shop, a less-snuggly replacement blanket draped over the couch and DUM-E is making hot chocolate, supervised by FRIDAY. ‘Hey snow dragon,’ Tony greets him. ‘Bad day?’

‘Yeah.’ Bucky’s voice is a hoarse whisper, and Tony winces internally, knowing that means Bucky woke from screaming nightmares – even worse than usual, if the serum hasn’t taken care of it yet. 

It’s roughly mid-afternoon, by Tony’s admittedly not all that reliable internal clock. ‘Could have come here earlier,’ he says gently, pulling him down onto the couch.

Bucky shrugs even as he curls onto the couch and lets Tony tuck the blanket round him. ‘Called my therapist. Went for a run. Hoped it’d help.’

‘Did it?’ Tony asks, settling onto the couch as well and rubbing gently at Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky shrugs again. 

‘Helped a bit, but I’m still not feelin’… just wanted to see you.’

‘Any time,’ Tony assures him. ‘But we can do this wherever, you know? If you’d be more comfortable with your hoard.’ Against him, Bucky tenses, and Tony curses himself internally. ‘Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t… I know that’s your space. I wasn’t… right here’s fine, yeah?’

‘Sorry,’ Bucky whispers, still tense, and Tony rubs at his shoulders again, trying to sooth and apologise with touch. ‘Not ready...’

‘Don’t worry, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said anything,’ Tony tells him. ‘You don’t have to let anyone into your space, remember?’

Bucky pulls away, turning awkwardly inside the blanket wrap to look at Tony. ‘It’s not that I don’t wanna,’ he tells Tony seriously, voice still quiet. ‘’M just not quite ready yet.’ His eyes beg Tony to understand, and Tony wants to pull him into a hug, promise him it’s fine and Tony understands. He settles for tracing a hand over Bucky’s cheek instead, daring to tuck a lock of Bucky’s hair back behind his ear. ‘No problem,’ Tony assures him. ‘Right here’s fine. And hey, there’s hot chocolate. Thanks buddy,’ he adds, as DUM-E wheels carefully up with two mugs, and Tony uses it as motivation to stop touching Bucky, reaching for the mugs and carefully moving them to the back of the couch. ‘Come on,’ he encourages Bucky, ‘lean against me. FRI-baby,’ he adds, ‘where did we leave off?’

‘The Road to Isenguard,’ she replies, pulling up the correct chapter on Tony’s tablet, and Bucky settles back against Tony’s side, curled up again and looking much smaller than seems possible. Tony waits a second to make sure he’s properly settled then clears his throat and starts to read. 

‘So it was that in the light of a fair morning King Théoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again on the green grass...’

Tony makes it through half the chapter before the last of the tension in Bucky’s body melts away. He pauses for a moment to take a sip of hot chocolate to wet his mouth, meeting Bucky’s eyes and offering him a small smile as he does. Bucky smiles back, eyes less heartbreaking, mug of hot chocolate half empty. ‘Thank you,’ he offers, voice sounding better as well, and Tony smiles a bit wider. 

‘Any time, frosty fangs.’

Bucky grins a bit, ducking his head, then takes a deep breath. ‘Just so ya know… I brought some of my hoard with me,’ he tells Tony quietly, and Tony feels his too vulnerable heart jump in his chest.

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, pleased and touched and a little overwhelmed that Bucky felt comfortable enough to do that, and is trusting him with the information.

‘Yeah, dollface,’ Bucky whispers back, and Tony ducks his head a little, trying to hide a blush as he fumbles for the tablet. 

‘The company turned then away from the Coomb and from the wood...’ Neither of them comment on the way Tony’s voice shakes a little as he begins reading again, and Bucky settles further into his side.

Later, with a softly snoring super-soldier sleeping beside him, Tony thinks about what Bucky said. _Not ready yet._ And, more importantly, _I brought some of my hoard._ Meaning that he trusts Tony already, and maybe one day, Tony will be trusted enough to see the whole of Bucky’s hoard.

Tony sighs gently and tucks the blanket tighter around Bucky. Not that he needs it, really. The sweatshirt he’s wearing is just about the softest thing Tony has ever felt, and once upon a time Tony used to have a pair of socks like the ones Bucky is wearing, so he knows how ridiculously warm and fluffy they are… in fact, those _are_ Tony’s long missing socks.

‘Huh,’ Tony huffs quietly to himself, pieces beginning to fall into place, warmth filling him even more. It’s probably still wishful thinking, but maybe his one-sided feelings towards Bucky aren’t so one-sided after all… 

*

The gathering is small but friendly, nothing like pretty much all of Tony’s birthday parties. There’s inexpert but heartfelt cake, slightly lopsided decorations, enough pizza to feed two small towns and a mound of presents that Bucky keeps shooting pleased and surprised glances at. Tony stands in the corner, taking a second to nurse his single drink of the evening and watching the other Avengers wish Bucky a happy birthday.

Rhodey swings by with a couple of pizza slices on a plate, setting it on the table beside Tony. ‘Sulking in the corner, Tones?’

‘Nah,’ Tony assures him, exchanging his glass for the plate. ‘Just taking a break from the merriment.’

‘You?’ Rhodey raises a sceptical eyebrow and Tony shakes his head sadly. 

‘Judging, sourpatch? It’s not me who can’t keep off the stripper poles. Remember -’

‘Ok, no, I really don’t want to remember that. Again.’ Rhodey makes a pained face, and Tony grins at him, stuffing pizza into his mouth. ‘Seriously though,’ Rhodey continues. ‘You Ok? You’ve been quiet lately.’

‘Just thinking about things,’ Tony replies, eyes drawn once more to Bucky, who’s now opening his presents with a single-minded focus and care that makes Tony’s heart turn over. Just a little. 

Beside him, Rhodey makes a considering noise. ‘Thinking about anything – or anyone – in particular?’ he asks, and Tony turns to see his knowing look. 

‘We might be working towards something,’ Tony admits without preamble, because Rhodey has listened to him ramble about Bucky on many an evening. ‘Or maybe I just hope we are. It’s difficult,’ he sighs, and Rhodey nods in sympathetic agreement. He’s been there through some of Tony’s more memorable mistakes, has seen how the satyr part of Tony likes to make things into more than they really are. 

Tony frequently wishes he got more from his satyr heritage than just a fondness for drink, sex and growing elaborate facial hair. At least an ability to tell flirting from… not flirting. That would be useful. He brings himself out of those thoughts as Rhodey speaks. ‘Have you considered just talking to him?’ 

‘Perish the thought,’ Tony replies dryly. ‘Talking? Like an adult? Not my thing, honeybear.’ He reaches for his glass to take a sip. ‘Besides, how would that go? Hi Bucky, have you ever thought about you and me in a naked way? Cause I have and think I might be in love with you, no pressure.’

‘Ok, first, never talk about you and him and naked again. Please. My delicate ears.’ Rhodey shudders like the overdramatic person he is. ‘And second? Maybe just try asking him out on a date first? Cause I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.’

Tony gives him a lopsided smile. ‘I might try that one day. Like an adult. But not yet.’

‘Fine,’ Rhodey sighs. ‘Stay in your corner and go back to your sad-ass distance pining.’ 

‘Nope,’ Tony replies, grabbing his empty pizza plate. ‘I want cake now.’ Behind Rhodey, Bucky looks up and catches Tony’s eyes, smiling and raising his eyebrows. ‘Besides, the birthday boy calls. Later, platypus.’

Rogers is in the seat beside Bucky, and Tony nods a little stiffly to him before Bucky claims his attention. ‘You Ok, doll?’ he asks, and Tony resists the urge to lean down and kiss the concern off his face. 

‘Just peachy, dragon fruit,’ he assures him. ‘Get some good loot?’

‘Yeah.’ Bucky moves to show him. ‘Stevie got me this swell watch.’

‘Swell,’ Tony agrees, taking in the gunmetal grey tactical watch in its velvet lined box, the shiny tech a perfect addition to a dragon’s hoard. ‘Looks great.’

On Bucky’s other side, Rogers shifts in his seat. ‘I’m gonna go get some cake,’ he says, standing, and Tony nods. 

‘I was going to get some too,’ he says as Rogers moves off. ‘You had any yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Bucky tells him. ‘But it looks great.’ Silence falls for a second, and Tony looks at the rest of the gifts laid out on the table. Most of it is things suitable for hoarding, mixed in with a few practical gifts and the joint present from Harley and Peter, a scale-model hobbit hole they made themselves. 

He’s startled out of his perusal by Bucky’s hand on his arm. ‘You sure you’re alright, doll?’ Concerned eyes scrutinise him carefully, and Tony can’t handle this.

‘I left your present in the workshop,’ he blurts. ‘I’ll give it to you later.’

‘Sure,’ Bucky agrees, still looking concerned, and Tony makes himself move his arm, pulling out of Bucky’s gentle grip. 

‘Gonna go – check,’ he manages, hurrying away before Bucky can try to stop him. At the door, he looks back for a second, heart thumping hard at the small worried frown on Bucky’s face as he absently pets the watch box. 

_God_ , Tony hopes he’s not misreading this. 

*

Tony hides in the workshop and distracts himself with new tech for Peter until he feels able to be close to Bucky and still manage to talk like an actual adult. 

It takes a while, and when he realises the time he winces a little. ‘FRI, is Bucky still awake?’ 

‘Sergeant Barnes is awake, yes.’ FRIDAY sounds disapproving of this, ever despairing at the poor sleeping habits of the humans in her building. 

‘See if he’s ready for my present now, will you?’ Tony requests, and waits semi-patiently for FRIDAY to relay the request. 

‘Sergeant Barnes is on his way down,’ FRIDAY reports, and Tony gives an involuntary twitch. 

‘Ask him to fire up the coffee machine in the common room instead, would you? I’ll be up in a minute.’ Normally he’d love having Bucky in his space but if this doesn’t go as Tony hopes he’ll want his workshop to retreat to. Better to do this somewhere else. He grabs the present sitting ready on one of the workstations and heads for the elevator. 

Twice he has to stop himself from tapping nervously on his chest, a habit left over from his arc reactor days, as the elevator takes him to the main floor. It’s been a long time since he last felt this combination of anticipation and apprehension at the thought of talking to someone, and added to that, historically he has a poor track record of gift-related success. Still, he’s not going to back out now. 

Bucky smiles at him when he steps into the common area. The party mess is still lying about, though the dishes and left over food have been cleared away. Tony grins back, plastering on his patented charming smile, dropping it after a second when Bucky’s expression twists back to ‘worried’ once more. 

‘Hey, birthday boy,’ Tony greets before Bucky can say anything. ‘Ready for more presents?’

‘Not my birthday any more,’ Bucky corrects him. ‘Gone midnight.’

‘Doesn’t count if you haven’t slept yet,’ Tony counters. ‘Some of my birthdays have gone on for days.’

‘Tony,’ Bucky sighs, giving him that look which mixes amusement, fondness and worry and is typical of people who spend long periods of time around him. Rhodey and Pepper perfected it long ago. Tony ignores the way it makes something in his chest spasm and instead holds out the package. 

‘Here.’

Bucky takes it carefully, expression curious, and Tony can’t stay to watch this. ‘Coffee,’ he mumbles, a question and an excuse in one, and makes for the kitchen. He forages in the fridge as the coffee finishes working its way through the machine, cutting off two slices of cake to go with it. He never got any earlier, and it’s Bucky cake, he should have a piece too. 

Crinkling paper in the next room tells him that Bucky’s opening the parcel, and Tony busies himself with the coffee so as not to think about Bucky’s reaction. It doesn’t work though, and the lack of sound from the next room has him taking deep breaths to keep his cool as he locates and loads a tray.

His stomach drops as he walks through to the common area. Far from the delighted or even just pleased expression Tony was hoping for, Bucky’s expression is blank in a way that hasn’t been seen since the Winter Soldier’s earliest days at the compound. Shit. He’s misjudged this terribly. 

‘Coffee!’ he exclaims, aiming for bright but probably missing by a mile. Bucky doesn’t even look up, still staring expressionlessly at the present in his hands, and Tony’s stomach sinks further as he automatically kicks into damage control mode. 

‘Wow, winter wings, overwhelming me with the thanks here! Nah, don’t worry, that’s not the main present, just an extra, the real gift’s gonna take a couple more days -’ or maybe a week, since Tony has to first come up with an idea then design and build it, some kind of awesome tech to make Bucky forget all about Tony’s terrible miscalculation ‘- but don’t worry, it’ll knock your scaly socks off. And you know, hey, re-gifting’s totally legit, no need to worry, no one will know if you just stick it in a cupboard til Christmas or whenever. Anyway, gotta run, coffee and tech wait for no man,’ he finishes, grabbing for his mug and backing towards the door as quickly as he can, turning and throwing a wave over his shoulder as he reaches the hallway. ‘See you in a bit -’

‘Wait!’

For a long second Tony seriously debates pretending not to hear Bucky’s shout, but in the end he accepts that it’s not going to work. Steeling his spine, he spins round again, offering a quizzically raised eyebrow and his best smirk. ‘Problem, ice-dragon?’

‘You know, don’t you?’ Bucky asks, holding up the blanket that Tony just gave him and giving Tony a look both assessing and vulnerable. 

‘Know what, snapdragon?’ Tony asks, not dropping his eyebrow or his smirk and fighting the urge to grab the blanket of poor judgment off Bucky. 

Across the room, Bucky swallows, fingers flexing in the wool he’s holding with both hands. ‘You know about my hoard,’ he says, well, croaks. Tony takes a sip of his coffee, hiding behind the mug. 

‘Everyone does,’ he says when he’s swallowed the too-hot liquid, mostly without wincing. ‘And really, good choice, right? Who doesn’t love shiny tech.’

Bucky takes a hesitant step closer, fingers tightening in the blanket once more. ‘No, I mean… you know about my real hoard.’ He licks his lips in a nervous gesture Tony hardly ever sees from him. ‘You know what I’ve been collectin’.’

‘I guessed,’ Tony tells him quietly, dropping the eyebrow and the smirk but not the coffee. He takes a deep breath and goes for honesty. ‘Things kept going missing,’ he starts, ‘and FRIDAY wouldn’t say who it was. It’s a pretty short list of people she trusts. So I was thinking about it, and watching you, and you didn’t seem so keen on the tech any more. Just a matter of putting two and two together,’ he finishes, shrugging, and across the room from him Bucky sighs. 

‘Guess I wasn’t as careful as I thought,’ he says, resigned, and Tony shrugs. 

‘If it helps, I don’t think anyone else knows.’ He pauses for a second, then nods to the blanket Bucky hasn’t put down yet. ‘So what do you think?’

Bucky drops his gaze to the blanket once more before raising the blanket to his face and rubbing his cheek against it. His eyes fall closed at the sensation, and Tony has to take another scalding drink of coffee to fight back the noise that wants to break free at the look of sheer bliss on Bucky’s face. 

‘It’s amazin’, Tony,’ he murmurs, eyes opening slowly in lazy pleasure, and Tony chases the last sip with another just as hot. ‘What’s it made of?’

‘Qiviut. Musk ox fur from the Arctic. It’s supposed to be one of the softest wools in the world.’

‘I can believe it,’ Bucky agrees, stroking carefully over the cable knit pattern. He looks up again, gazing at Tony with warm eyes. ‘Thank you, doll. It’s perfect.’

‘Glad you like it,’ Tony manages, nodding like an idiot as warm relief washes through him. He got it right. Bucky likes his gift. He didn’t overstep and fuck up one of the best friendships he’s ever had. He washes the lump in his throat down with more coffee. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.’

‘Course you wouldn’t.’ Bucky doesn’t sound at all worried, words absent with how involved he is in his new blanket. ‘Trust you, sweetheart.’

‘Yeah,’ Tony breathes, pulse jumping. ‘Me too.’ Tension broken and a distraction needed, he reaches for one of the cake plates, breaking off a piece and using it to keep from blurting out anything too revealing. It’s good cake, he realises after a minute of distracted chewing as he tries not to just stare creepily at Bucky. It’s not easy, with the wonder that’s still on Bucky’s face as he traces his fingers over the blanket. Between the staring and the trying not to stare, he doesn’t realise he’s misses Bucky’s words until a few seconds have passed and Bucky is looking at him in concern. 

‘Sorry,’ he manages. ‘What did you say?’

‘I asked if you wanna see the rest of my hoard?’ Bucky’s eyes are anxious, ready to retract the offer in a second if Tony seems uninterested. Tony knows that feeling well, too many people in his past uninterested in seeing his creations, but even without that there’s really only one answer.

‘I’d love to.’

They don’t talk on the ride up, nor on the walk along the hallway to where Bucky’s rooms are. It’s late enough that even the habitual insomniacs are in their own quarters and they don’t meet anyone on the way. Just as well, really – Tony doesn’t think he could handle talking to someone like a normal human when anticipation is thrumming so hard in his veins. 

Bucky unlocks the door with his keycard, gesturing Tony in like a good host. The first room is a sitting room with a slightly worn couch and a boring colour scheme. It doesn’t scream of either ‘hoard’ or ‘personality’, and Tony assumes Bucky must keep this room neutral for when people come by. 

Bucky has shut the door but hasn’t moved any further into the room. Tony turns to him, raising an eyebrow. ‘Good hiding spot, keeping your hoard in your apartment,’ he teases, but Bucky doesn’t even crack a smile. His hands are clenched in the blanket still, expression uncertain, and Tony takes a careful step forwards. ‘We don’t have to do this now,’ he reminds Bucky, but Bucky shakes his head. 

‘Been wantin’ to show you for a while,’ he says, straightening his shoulders and taking a step forwards. ‘Come on.’

Tony follows him across the room to the bedroom door, anticipation building. Bucky doesn’t hesitate any longer, certain of his actions as he opens the door and stands back to let Tony through. Tony brushes past him carefully, trying not to hold his breath from the closeness as he steps into the room. Beyond the door hangs heavy velvet curtains, one half pulled back to allow entrance. He glances at Bucky, a quick look to ask _are you sure?_ \- waiting for Bucky’s nod before stepping through. 

Inside, the room isn’t a room any longer – it’s a luxury den. The walls are obscured, hung with overlapping quilts, while the floor is covered with jewel-toned rugs, thick and soft. Tony now knows for certain where all the cushions went from the common area – the back of the den has a massive nest of cushions and blankets piled up on what looks to be two mattresses on the floor.

‘Holy fuck, Bucky! This is amazing,’ Tony tells him, awed. He checks again with Bucky before wandering closer to the nest and finds him smiling, looking shyly pleased. Tony has to turn away from that look – it’s lethal. Instead he examines the nest, spotting Hope’s cashmere scarf, another scarf Rogers had mentioned as missing, a shawl of Natasha’s, and - ‘Is that my workshop blanket?’ Tony asks in disbelief. He hardly recognises it. Gone are the stains, the colour is close to what it was when he first stole it and the holes appear to have been carefully patched. When he picks it up though, it’s still as snuggly as he remembers. 

‘Yeah, uh, sorry about that.’ Bucky appears beside him, looking contrite. ‘It’s just so soft an’ it made me think of you. Helped with the nightmares.’ His look of contrition turns awkward and mournful. ‘Y’should probably have it back though.’

‘Nah, don’t worry about it,’ Tony says, placing it back in the nest with a pang of regret. ‘If it helps, you should keep it. Call it an extra present.’ He’ll miss it though. Maybe they could work out a custody arrangement? Or a visitation schedule even, though that would mean Tony coming back here, and he doesn’t know how Bucky would feel about that. 

‘Y’sure, doll?’ Bucky looks uncertain, and Tony firms his resolve. 

‘Sure, no problem, mi casa es tu casa and all that jazz. Though maybe keep to hoarding communal stuff or things you buy, yeah? Natasha might kill you if another shawl goes missing.’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky agrees sadly, giving his nest a forlorn look, and Tony reaches out to gently squeeze his arm. 

‘I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you where to get your own,’ he suggests, and under his hand Bucky tenses.

‘No. ‘M not gonna – I don’t want them to know. Not yet.’

‘Ok, no problem,’ Tony soothes, kicking himself internally. He knows Bucky has issues surrounding his hoard, he doesn’t need to keep bringing it up. ‘You can always ask FRIDAY to track things down as well.’ He takes a breath, debates, and decides to go for it anyway. ‘They wouldn’t judge,’ he promises softly. ‘Whatever you want to hoard, no one will care.’

Bucky’s breathing hitches a little. ‘I know,’ he replies quietly. ‘In my head I know, but every time I think about it my instincts go crazy an’ it don’t feel safe.’ He takes another breath. ‘HYDRA, they wouldn’t let me keep a hoard,’ he begins, and Tony knows the bare bones of this, has read it in clinical reports and heard it from dispassionate defence councils but never before from Bucky himself, never with pain on his face and a tremor in his voice. He aches to ease it, but all he can do is listen and keep touching Bucky, keep him grounded in the here and now. 

‘I think, in the beginnin’ they wanted me to hoard weapons but it never worked,’ Bucky continues. ‘An’ every time I was out of their control for longer than a few days I’d always try an’ start buildin’ a hoard, stuff to help me remember, stuff that was nice or interestin’ or distractin’ or pretty. They always found it an’ sent me back to the chair. Eventually even the thought of hoarding hurt,’ he whispers, and Tony bites his lip to stop a broken noise escaping at the haunted look on Bucky’s face. 

‘When I first got here, everybody thought I should start buildin’ a hoard again, but I couldn’t,’ Bucky carries on. ‘They kept giving me things, shiny things an’ tech an’ stuff an’ I took it cause I didn’t want them to know I was broken, but it just reminded me of HYDRA. Felt like I was gonna be punished for keeping it.’ He swallows, and Tony swallows too, swallows back reassurances and endearments and stays steady by Bucky’s side. 

‘D’you remember the movie night when we all watched _Monty Python_?’ Bucky asks, and Tony takes a second to clear his throat as he rolls with the subject change. 

‘You were so confused,’ he manages. ‘And Rhodey has the best ‘Ni’.’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky agrees, smiling at the memory, and Tony smiles too, just a little bit. ‘You sat beside me for the first time an’ tried to explain things but you were laughin’ too much, an’ you looked so happy that I wanted to hug you, but we weren’t really friends yet so I grabbed a cushion and hugged that instead. An’ then I kinda forgot an’ took it back to my room. I was gonna take it back, but it was nice, an’ it made me happy to see it an’ remember. An’ then I had a nightmare, an’ I hugged it an’ felt better, an’ then I thought maybe more cushions would be even better, so I kinda… took the rest. An’ then a few more things that made me feel good an’ reminded me of people and happy things, an’ suddenly I had a hoard again, a hoard I wanted, but I was still scared someone might take it away. So I just… didn’t say anythin’,’ he finishes, looking at Tony with sheepish, worried eyes. 

Tony takes a moment to breath and formulate a response. ‘I’m glad you have a hoard again,’ he says eventually. ‘And I’m honoured that you showed me. Thank you for that, really. It’s a great hoard, lovely, really, good job snapdragon.’

Beside him, Bucky looks pleased and relieved, and Tony is so, so relieved too, that he hasn’t gone and stuck his foot in it. He’s not going to mention telling the others again right now – it’s the wrong time, so instead he laughs a little, trying to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Kinda wish I had something important to tell you in return, since we’re doing the whole ‘heart-to-heart’ thing,’ he jokes, and Bucky looks at him intensely. 

‘You tell me lots of thing, doll,’ he says. ‘You told me about Afghanistan an’ Howard an’ the wormhole an’ Ultron. You trusted me first, sweetheart, so I knew I could trust you.’

‘Thank you,’ Tony whispers after a second, and he really wants to hug Bucky right now, really really wants to, but he stays where he is. There is one last thing he hasn’t told Bucky, probably should tell him in the interests of honesty, but both of them are too vulnerable right now. It’s definitely the wrong time to open that emotionally compromising and potentially guilt and/or pity inducing can of worms, but he will tell Bucky, soon, and he’ll hope and pray that Bucky feels the same. 

In the mean time, it feels like time to de-escalate the situation a bit. ‘So definitely a good call with the blanket,’ he says, once again relieved that he hit the mark with this one at least. ‘Much better than all the tech I’ve forced on you, right?’

‘No, doll, that’s not true.’ Bucky looks distressed now. ‘I love the stuff you make me.’

Tony gives him his widest smile. ‘You don’t have to be polite, snowy scales,’ he assures him. ‘Now I know what you like you’ll be getting much better things. No more trauma-inducing junk cluttering up your space.’

‘No,’ Bucky protests again. ‘It’s not trauma junk.’ When Tony raises a disbelieving eyebrow Bucky grabs his hand, pulling him round to a pair of previously unnoticed glass-fronted cabinet near the entrance. ‘Look,’ he points, and Tony does. The cabinets are full, one with things Tony recognises as small gifts from the Avengers and the other with all the things Tony has made, laid out carefully on the shelves, polished and gleaming. Tony blinks, brain offline for a second. 

‘Why?’ he blurts in the end. ‘It’s not even – you don’t hoard this any more. Why’s it here?’

‘Cause I am gettin’ better, even if ‘m not all the way there yet,’ Bucky tells him, smiling gently at the cabinets. ‘Even if it’s not really my hoard I can look at these an’ remember the people who gave them to me, an’ they’re good memories. All these things,’ he waves at Tony’s cabinet with his free hand, ‘you made them for me, sweet thing,’ Bucky tells him earnestly, and there goes Tony’s brain, blue screening again. 

‘You really like them?’ Tony asks hesitantly after a minute, and Bucky nods solemnly. He’s still holding Tony’s hand, Tony realises suddenly, and it’s a testament to how thrown he is that he missed that. He’s really only noticing now because Bucky’s tightening his grip and raising Tony’s captured hand to his lips. 

He’s kissing Tony’s hand. Tony is not whimpering. He’s not whimpering and he totally understands what’s going on.

‘Hey, doll,’ Bucky says, and Tony stares at him, at his confusing face and his confusing soft tone. ‘I really like the things you make me, and I really like you. D’ya like me?’

Slowly, slowly, brain still fighting its way free of the confused haze that’s engulfed it, Tony nods. ‘I like you,’ he agrees.

‘’S good,’ Bucky encourages. ‘Think you oughta know, since we’re bein’ all honest, I might like you as more than just a friend.’ 

‘Really?’ Tony croaks, mouth dry. So maybe this is the time for total honesty between them. Huh. He swallows as best he can, looking at Bucky’s apprehensive yet hopeful expression. ‘I like you too. More than friends.’

‘That’s good,’ Bucky says, shoulders relaxing. ‘Was thinkin’ maybe we could go out some time. On a date. Together.’

‘ _OhthankGodyesplease,_ ’ Tony blurts, because he is a suave, unflappable person. ‘Any time. Seriously, any time you like.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Bucky suggests, breaking out the rogue’s grin that appears so very rarely. ‘Before you have time to come to ya senses.’

‘Pretty sure that should be my line,’ Tony replies, grinning back, heart pounding in elation. ‘You got somewhere in mind?’ Cause if not, Tony’s room has hot and cold running take out and a very comfortable bed… 

‘Burgers? I know a good place,’ Bucky offers, and Tony is one hundred percent on board with that. 

‘Suits me, frosty fangs. Always down for burgers.’ Ecstatic as he is, as much as he wants to stay here and prolong this moment, he still reluctantly pulls his hand out of Bucky’s. ‘Should probably go, though. It’s late, and I need my beauty sleep for our date tomorrow.’

‘You’d be beautiful even without, doll,’ Bucky declares. Flatterer. ‘But you’re right, we both should sleep.’ A mischievous gleam enters his eyes. ‘Before that, though, since accordin’ to you it’s technically still my birthday, c’n I ask for one more thing?’

‘Sure thing, dragon fruit. What’re you after?’ Tony knows what he _hopes_ Bucky’s after, a hope that appears to be about to come true, as Bucky reaches for Tony’s waist to pull him closer. 

‘Can I get a birthday kiss, sweet thing?’ Bucky murmurs, their faces only inches apart, and Tony hums in agreement. 

‘Anything for the birthday boy,’ he murmurs back, anticipation rising. He’s been wanting, wishing, dreaming of this for months now, and it’s finally about to happen, he’s about to kiss Bucky, their lips are about to meet, and -

and -

and -

It’s everything he hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> I have consumed an unhealthy amount of WinterIron fanfic over the last month or so, and this is the result. I hope people enjoy it and don’t find it too OOC or sappy, but I couldn’t handle trying to write the hardcore canon angst.


End file.
